Suncoast
by Nienna Nir
Summary: Hunters don't get Holidays. So if Dean wants to pick out an easy case for Thanksgiving, well, that's only fair, right?


"Dean, what's going on here?" Sam demanded with an irritated expression.

"What?" his brother answered, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. "Are you going to eat that last piece of fried chicken? That is amazing." He speared the chicken leg before Sam could reply, dunking it in his gravy and reaching over Cas for the bread basket.

"I think he wants to know why we're here," Castiel pointed out with a mildly disinterested expression.

"Man's got to eat," Dean stated, slathering butter on his bread.

"No, why are we _here_," Sam asked, pointing at the table.

"We're on a case and we stopped for lunch," Dean insisted. "What part aren't you getting?"

"I'm not getting it," Sam replied shrewdly. "Because the ghost we're supposedly hunting is out on the beach and we're nowhere near the beach."

"It seems pointless to be hunting it anyway," Cas offered, carving into the remains of his pot roast. "There have been no deaths, no signs of injury and barely any proof it even exists."

"There were like fifty photos and videos of the thing online," Dean protested. "And you know how it is, he seems harmless now, but one day that son of a bitch is going to turn and he's going to eat a whole mess of grade schoolers in those stupid inflatable swim fins. That's how these things always go down."

"I'm just saying," Sam replied, fighting back the urge to chuckle. "It's pretty slim."

"Dude," Dean protested. "It's a ghost on the _beach _in Florida." He waggled his eyebrows, elbowing Castiel in the ribs. Sam only rolled his eyes.

"And then you drag us in here and we have to wait half an hour for a table," his brother added. "And what's with that line outside that goes half way around the block, what's that all about?"

"Beats me, it's the day before Thanksgiving and we're in a tourist town," Dean protested. "Were you even paying attention to the traffic out there?"

"It is most disturbing," Cas nodded, scraping gravy from his plate. "Do you know, eighty-five percent of the license plates are out of state?"

"Stop being helpful and pick out some pie, man," Dean instructed, handing him the flip-board of deserts. Sam snatched it from Cas's grasp, eyeing it before handing it back.

"Forty different kinds of pie?" he demanded skeptically.

"It's world famous pie, dude," Dean declared defensively. "We were in town, I wasn't going to miss pie!" Cas gave Dean's sleeve a tug, leaning into the table with a worried frown. Sam and Dean both leaned closer, their expressions confused.

"Those women are staring at us," Cas declared, jerking his head to the left. Dean's eyebrows arched and Sam turned ever so slowly. He bit his lip, sitting up and returning his attention to the remains of his stuffing.

"No they're staring at you," he declared. Cas scrunched back in his chair and Dean let out a snort of amusement. Two tables away a trio of women were enjoying lunch together. Dean drew his shoulders back, grinning as one of them glanced over her shoulder at them, her amber eyes growing wide as he gave her his most smarmy look. The other two struggling to hide their amusement as she looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing.

"They're checking us out, dude," Dean said, grasping the back of Cas's jacket. "sit up man."

"Pie and girls, Dean?" Sam demanded, though he was half smiling.

"Pie and girls and ghosts on a beach!" Dean pointed out, making intermittent eye contact with the women. "The only thing better than this is ghosts in an all female nudist colony!"

"You could have just said you wanted to take off for Thanksgiving and sit on the beach and stare at girls in bikinis," Sam offered.

"Hey, we're here working," Dean protested. "If I picked a case with some perks, well, that's the only benefit in this line of work."

"What is Mincemeat?" Cas asked, his brow furrowing as he stared at the flip-board. Dean ignored him, giving two of the women who'd been watching them his most charming smile as they made their way to the register.

"Get the Peanut Butter," They looked up to find the third woman standing beside their table, a friendly if slightly teasing smile on her face.

"Excuse me?" Cas asked, blinking up at her.

"Or the Dutch Apple," She suggested, tossing long ebony hair back from her shoulders. "But if you've never had a real peanut butter pie you should probably get that. Second best peanut butter pie in the world."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, glancing at her friends who had paused by the pastry case and were now giggling again. "Who makes the best?"

"My mum, every Christmas," she replied with a cheeky smile. "Seriously, though, it's good pie, the best you can get in town."

"Oh, you're a local then?" Sam asked, shifting his hand to cover the images of the haunted beach on his tablet.

"And you're not," she pointed out. Cas shot her a suspicious look but she only smiled at him, unbothered by his telegraphed caution. "I've lived here long enough to know a tourist when I see one. You gentlemen drive down here to get in the pie line?"

"Pie line?" Dean asked, confused until realization seemed to dawn on him. "You mean those people standing out front are here for pie?"

"Pie line started this morning," She nodded. "everyone's in town picking up their orders today."

"People drove from out of town for a pie?" Sam asked as if it were the craziest thing he'd ever heard.

"Every Thanksgiving and Christmas," she answered, nodding. "They'll sell something like six thousand pies today. People drive here from all over the state to pick up pie for tomorrow. I normally wouldn't come down here this week but I have friends in for the holidays… and… well… world famous pie. If you're not here for the pie line you must be in town for the holidays?"

"Business trip," Cas replied frowning at the menu. Dean bit his lip in frustration as Sam rolled his eyes.

"We're… bloggers," Sam lied. "on… unique tourist spots."

"We have plenty of that here," she suggested. "Most everyone that comes here writes about the art scene or the indy film festival, but if you're looking for something really weird you should try one of the ghost tours."

"Wait, ghost _tours_?" Dean demanded, his expression shocked.

"Yeah, the beach is haunted," she said seriously. "So's the opera house, and the art museum… And one of the dorms of the Ringling School." Sam shot Dean a dirty look as Cas gazed up at the woman with a stunned expression.

"People pay to go to places haunted by ghosts," Cas gaped, appalled.

"So… not into the whole supernatural thing?" she asked, holding back a giggle.

"We… try not to judge," Dean amended, jabbing Cas in the ribs again. He pulled a face, glaring at Dean as he rubbed his side. "What people do on their vacations is their own business, right?"

"So have you, seen any of these ghosts?" Sam asked eagerly, tapping at his tablet as if he were taking notes.

"Oh everyone's seen the ghosts," she insisted. "Even if they haven't. That's one of the rules of living around here; Be friendly, talk up _all_ the attractions, always have a restaurant recommendation." Sam shot Dean a withering look but his brother was half distracted by one of the woman's friends who was now staring at him unabashedly.

"But you've got Yoder's pie and a whole tablet full of freaky local landmarks," She remarked, glancing over Sam's shoulder and nodding in approval. "You're all set. If you run out of ideas, don't be afraid to ask a local, you'll know us when you see us, we're the ones wearing winter coats." She tossed her scarf around her neck with a flourish, tugging on her gloves.

"Um, thanks," Sam answered with a frown.

"Happy ghost hunting!" She called over her shoulder, joining her friends at the door. Dean grinned at the two women who were still eyeing him appreciatively and Sam waved awkwardly.

"Dude, we just got made by a townie," Dean declared in frustration when the door had closed behind them.

"I don't think the townies here are exactly normal," Sam observed. Dean glanced around the restaurant suspiciously.

"What makes you think that?" he demanded.

"I'd say the Amish gentleman with the motorcycle helmet who just walked in would be a fair indicator," Castiel observed.

"Did you boys save room for pie?" their waitress asked, appearing beside their table with a sunny smile.

"Peanut buter," Castiel declared.

"Dutch Apple," Sam sighed. Dean paused.

"Can I get one of each of those?" he asked finally, his cheeks coloring slightly as both Cas and Sam glared at him. The three of them picked at their silverware awkwardly in silence for a moment.

"I want to get in the pie line," Dean admitted finally. Sam sighed, letting his head fall on the table.


End file.
